Awakening
by Felinephoenix
Summary: His name is David Sargent, and he has been dealt an unfair fate. With the love of Lord Crayak, however, perhaps poor David can change all that...(Chapter 2 up!)
1. Chapter One Realization

Author's Note: I'd like everyone to please take note, before reading, that there are some things from Andalite Chronicles that are changed in this story because otherwise, well, I wouldn't have a story. Yes, I will explain Melissa's "talent". Oh, and our other main character will have his own chapter full of explanation.  
Just bear with me and enjoy the fic!  
**Timeline Note** Takes place sometime in between #23 and #45. 

Awakening  
_One - Realization_

* * *

My name is Melissa Chapman. I'm a freak of nature. 

To tell you the truth, I'm still not sure what caused it. But I wish it had never happened. I wish I never knew.  
I could have lived with it, I'm sure. I'd been living with my parents forgetting I existed for about four years now.  
Two more years until I left the house. Yes, I could have put up with workaholic parents.  
Hell, I could have even put up with losing Rachel. I didn't, and still don't, know why she started pulling away. It just seemed like one day she was normal Rach and then the next, something changed. It was like she had bigger things on her mind. Bigger things there was no way I could relate to. So we lost touch, but I could have put up with that too. I could have endured all of that, you know. 

But I don't know how I'm going to cope with _this_. 

I'm not the kind of person who believes in little green men, but come on and take a look at our solar system and tell me there isn't life on other planets! It's just that I never expected aliens to be like this. I mean, what kind of twisted freak would think this is real? Besides conspiracy nuts, that is. Not me, that's for certain...or at least not the old me. Not the Melissa who sat her room crying to her cat because her parents didn't love her and her best friend had changed into someone she couldn't even talk to anymore. I'm not really any different now, I guess, except that now I spend my nights crying because I know _why_ my parents don't love me anymore, and I've got my guesses on why Rach started being so distant.  
I guess you're wondering what I'm blabbering on about. Well, if you can sit down, do it. I'm about to tell you something you are not going to like. 

Think about your family and your friends. Think about how much you love them, how much you trust them. Think about all the happy times you've shared together. Now think about this: what if they weren't the people you thought they were? What if, for no reason at all, they started to change into someone else? It's happening day after day, week after week and year after year across the globe. And you want to know why? Because they _aren't_ your friends and family, not anymore. They are slaves inside their own heads. Slaves to a race of slugs known as the Yeerks. The Yeerks are nothing more than blind gray slugs in the natural state. The Yeerks, lucky them, have the ability to wrap around your mind and get into every little crevice. Your body is now theirs and you have no say about it, but even worse is that you're still conscious and get to see this Yeerk use your body to convince all of those other people you love to become one of them. Isn't that special?  
Why doesn't anyone try to stop this? Because the cops are Yeerks. Because the President might even be a Yeerk! And you know what? _You have no idea._ You don't know if your dad is just spending a little too much time at the office or if he's not even really him anymore. There is no way to be sure.  
But I know that's it. My parents are not my parents anymore. They're Yeerks. At first I thought that maybe they were having marriage problems. My Mom loved me with all her heart, but I'm not her daughter as far as my genes go.  
I have never met my biological mother and Dad doesn't talk about her all that much. She just up and left before I was even one year old. Dad said he was glad to be rid of her. She was too goody-goody for his tastes and way too stubborn. I find it kind of ironic that such a goody-two-shoes would just leave like that, but it is easy to tell she and Dad couldn't have ever gotten along. Dad's a hard-broiled cynic. So at first I thought Mom and Dad were having some kind of problem with Dad's past. The only problem with my theory was that it was a very silent little fight between them, and my parents know how to scream. So I figured out what their problem was -- me.  
For about four years now I was blaming myself for my parents' actions. Dad and Mom were always out of the house on "work" and never spent any time with me anymore. They never even hugged me like they used to.  
I would have gone on thinking that if weren't for my freakiness. 

* * *

Mister Trent was a friend of my dad's, and he was a big donator to The Sharing. Dad had started his work with The Sharing four years ago. I guess it was about the time that he'd become a Yeerk. I had never met Mr. Trent in person but Dad would talk about him tons. Babble on and on about what a great, upstanding man he was. Mom, who _had_ met the all-wonderful Mr. Trent, would glow about him too. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought they were in love with him! But Mister Trent never figured that much into my life. He was a part of my parents' now Melissa-less world. Besides, it wasn't as if I would ever seen Mr. Trent face-to-face. I was the shameful kid; the one who they'd stopped loving. Why would they ever want their amazing Mr. Trent to see me?  
So I never thought much about Mister Trent and I didn't care to. He was just a reminder of my parents' rejection. 

I remember that I was stressed before I even got home that day. Maybe it was the stress that caused it to trigger?  
It had been a hard day and not one of my best at all. Mrs. Hanna, who is evil incarnate, just so know; had given me a huge fat ten on our three-weeks test for geography. I'd fallen off the balance beam at gymnastics practice. During the rides to and from practice Mom hadn't said a word to me. So it was already a pisser-offer of a day.  
Little was I to know the turn events were going to take. When we got home, I headed upstairs to throw myself on my bed and get a little sleep. It was something I did everyday. Back then I must have been...depressed. You know, serious-get-on-meds depressed. If you spend most of your time sleeping, doesn't that mean you're depressed?  
Doesn't matter. Not now. Not anymore.  
When I got to my room, Mom followed me. What a shocker, huh? Then she told me the news that turned my whole day from bad to unbearable. Fluffer had died; a car hit him.  
Fluffer McKitty is my cat. I know it sounds stupid that a cat could make my day horrible, but Fluffer was my only real friend anymore. When I couldn't take my parents neglect anymore I'd always have Fluffer to run up to. When I woke up in the morning, there was Fluffer. He was always purring whenever I woke up. It made me feel good, like at least someone on the planet cared about me. Also, Fluffer was a reminder of better days. My parents had bought him for me when I was a kid. Rachel and I used to play with him all the time. I know it sounds stupid, but I wanted to remember the good times. Even if things were shitty now, I still had memories. That was something.  
"He's dead?" I asked Mom. I didn't want to believe it. I refused to believe it.  
"Yes." Mom said with an insincerity a five year-old could detect. "I'm so sorry, baby." Then Mom wrapped her arms around me. She was hugging me! It'd been so long, so very long since she'd done that...I started crying, even though her hug felt _wrong_. I can't explain why, but there was something different with Mom.  
_She's never called you baby, dorkus._ The voice in the back of my head reminded me. Then I broke my hug.  
"Mom." I said as I tried to keep my voice calm. "You've never called me baby."  
I swear Mom turned white, but only for a second. "Don't be silly, Melissa. Of course I have. You just don't remember." She said in a sickening sugary-sweet voice. A voice I didn't trust at the moment. I stepped back away from my mother. "When?" I asked. My voice was shaking. "When did you call me that?"  
The look on my mother's face was so weird. Her right eyebrow twitched as she looked at me with eyes of steel. Those weren't the eyes I remembered on that face. "Last week." She spat out. "Now, why don't you sleep? It's been a long, hard day and the rest will do you good." Then she started pushing me, though not hard, into my room.  
I stood still while she dug through my dresser on a mission to find my PJs. It was just like whenever I got sick as a kid. Mom would stand over me, always watching for any cough or teeny-tiny increase in temperature. It was intimidating to a little kid, but I missed it now. After close to three minutes of searching, Mom recovered my green pajamas. She smiled at me as she put them on the bed. "You get dressed and then call me, I'll tuck you in."  
So I did just that. And Mom did come and tuck me in, making sure I was comfy and all of that crap.  
After that I lay awake in my bed, wondering what was going on with my mother and crying for my dead cat. 

* * *

It was four hours later when I woke up. I could smell food cooking from the kitchen. Smelt like spaghetti, I thought.  
I shook myself out of my PJs and replaced them with Ralph Lauren jeans and a shirt from the Gap. I brushed my thin hair and then went downstairs blinking tears out of my eyes, trying to forget how my cat would've been following me into the kitchen.  
Shock and surprise, Dad was cooking. I should have known there was something weird right then. Dad is not the kind of man who cooks. I have my doubts on whether the man can make himself a sandwich. Mom didn't seem to notice which weirded me out even more. Mom's a worrywart by nature; it wasn't like her to not be glancing at the boiling noodles every three seconds to make sure Dad wasn't about to blow up the house.  
What in the world had _happened_ to my parents?  
I sat down at the table and Mom put a plate of steaming spaghetti in front of face. I picked at my food, still thinking about Fluffer. I missed hearing his purrs already. I felt like such a baby. It made sense, though, that Fluffer would leave me. Everyone else had.  
Dinner was shorter than usual, but still as quiet for me. My parents would talk with flourish and animation to each other about their lives. Lives, which I noticed, revolved quite a bit around school, The Sharing, and the Almighty Mr. Trent. They'd do the nice, parental thing and ask me how my day went. That was as far as our conversation went. Adrenaline inducing, huh? In quiet unison we all put our plates in the sink and that was the end of dinner.  
I was on my way back upstairs when Dad grabbed me by the wrist. "Melissa, I'd like to talk to you." He said.  
Then he took me into the living room and sat me down for a little chat. Woo-hoo. "Melissa," He said with what seemed like a sad look in his eyes, but something about it just wasn't genuine. "I know this has been a tough day for you. We, your mother and I, have been worried about you. Sugarpie, we've been thinking that maybe you need someone to talk to besides your old man and your mother. Now I know I promised you that you didn't have to join The Sharing if you didn't want to, but this is beyond your mother and me. The Sharing might help you, sweetie. "  
_There it is again,_ I thought. _First Mom calls me baby, and now Dad's starting up with this sugarpie and sweetie stuff. What in the world is going on here?_  
What happened next rocked my world.  
First, Dad's face started to twitch as he said "The Sharing". I don't mean like a normal little face twitch, I mean his face broke out in freaking _spasms!_ That was freaky enough, but then I saw it. The gray slug wrapped around my Dad's brain. The Yeerk's life flashed through my eyes too fast for me to even comprehend. Then I saw my Dad's life flash before my eyes, too. I saw the Yeerk struggling to control my father. I saw Dad fighting against the Yeerk, trying to protect me. Protect me from becoming like him. From becoming a Yeerk. I only had one question.  
"Dad, what's a Visser?" I whispered before hitting the carpet. 

* * *

It was a dream. That's what I told myself when I woke up. I mean, come on, would you believe it? Really?  
Reality was about to hit five thousand times harder. Only a few hours after I woke up, too! Oh, goody!  
For you slow types out there, I'm being sarcastic. It was a pretty normal day. Dad and I both went to school him in his car and me on the bus. Mom went off to go play bingo and check out the Goodwill not long after we left.  
There was no mention of last night.  
It was a normal day at school, too. Try to make it look like I was sleeping in my classes (even though I was), attempt to discern what was edible from the school lunch, and attempt beyond hope to strike up conversation between Rachel. A normal, regular day except for the fact that I had something keeping me awake in class.  
It couldn't have been real. It _wasn't_ real. It would never _be_ real. I told myself that again and again.  
I never believed myself, not deep down. As much as I wanted to forget it and tell myself it wasn't true I knew it was. Have you ever been faced up against a truth you can't deny? If so, you know what I mean. You want to forget it; you want to believe it isn't true more than you've ever wanted anything your life. But you can't change reality.  
I had three very hard truths to try and come to grips with that morning. They were: 

1.) Earth was under attack by forces we couldn't even see. From the Yeerk's memory, our only hope was a handful of Andalite bandits. I didn't even know what an Andalite _was_, and I didn't like their chances.  
2.) My parents were no longer my parents. I could trust no one.  
3.) I was some kind of super-freak. I might not even be human. 

So, is it really any surprise I skipped school after fifth period? A girl _can_ only take so much.  
There is one perk to being the Vice-Principal's daughter. I know every single way out of this school and almost every way not to get caught, so I was heading to the mall before 12:51. Shopping would do me wonders.  
The mall isn't very far from the school but way beyond walking distance. So I hitched myself a bus to our city's epitome of gross capitalism. You know, the mall? The bus driver was a guy in his late-fifties to early-sixties. His hair was graying and his clothes weren't in such great shape either. His eyes, though, were gray and kind. I didn't think there was a slug in that head. The driver didn't seem surprised to see a high-school kid waiting for a ride. I'd bet he takes tons of kids away from the pit each day. To my relief, he didn't ask any questions. Neither did anyone else on the bus, though that might have something to do with the fact that I sat in the very back as far away from the other people as possible. During that whole long boring ride I couldn't help wondering how many of the people sitting in the seats in front of me had Yeerks in their head. How many of them were slaves in their heads?  
How many of them would never be free, just like my Mom and Dad? How many people would be taken just today? How many could those Anda-whatevers I'd seen through the Yeerk's memories save? Could they save my parents? Would they even try?  
I was stuck so deep in my thoughts that I almost missed the mall. It was only when the bus driver started yelling "Mall!" that I snapped out of it. I thanked the driver for alerting me and then ran my embarrassed ass out of there. 

God, I love the mall. It's like my second home. Looking back on things, part of why Rachel and I bonded so easy was the fact that we're both born mallrats -- and proud of it. I can't tell you how many hours the two of us spent window shopping while sipping hot java, even when we were supposed to be too young to drink it.  
But everything was different now. I remember just plain sinking down into a chair in the food court as my new reality hit me. The impact of what I knew now sent me into tears. I ran through the food court to the mall bathrooms. Skanky, nasty places they are. But I didn't want anyone to see me crying, and I really didn't want them asking why.  
No one was in the gray and dark stalls. Of course, coupled up their ugliness with the stink, and it makes perfect sense. I ran into the last stall and locked it shut. Then I just leaned up against the stall and sobbed until there weren't anymore tears left. When I was done I grabbed a handful of toilet paper and blew my nose. Then, feeling weak as heck, I dragged myself to one of the sinks and washed my red puffy eyes.  
My situation was still shit but I did feel better. It had hit me I couldn't go back home, not after ditching. The Yeerks in Mom and Dad's heads must have already caught onto the fact that I knew. No human anywhere was supposed to know. Some of what I had seen in my father's memories had sunken in along with the Yeerk's memories.  
Dad had agreed to become a Controller because of me. For his sake I couldn't go back. The Yeerk would have to make me one of them to shut me up. I couldn't, I just _couldn't_ do that my father. Making up my mind, I stormed out of the ugly bathroom to face my frightening new world.  
As soon as I got out of the bathroom a body slammed me down to the ground, knocking all the wind out of me.  
The body atop me was at least thirty pounds heavier than I was. I am an athlete but it didn't mean I could lift whoever was on me. I started to panic. Who was it? What did they want with me? Why wouldn't they get off me?!  
To my shock I saw it again. A different slug than the one in my father's head, but a Yeerk nonetheless. The man on top of me was a mall cop; a guy named T.S. Bruce. He was 24 and had joined The Sharing after a messy breakup with his girlfriend. A few months later Frank had been infested. The Yeerk was Niar 295. It wasn't a high-ranking Yeerk, just a step above a foot soldier. It was a spy for Visser Three. A spy whose main missions was to "quiet" those who knew about the invasion.  
"Get your dirty slug ass off of me!" I screamed at T.S./Niar 295, but he/it put T.S.'s hand in front of my mouth, making sure I couldn't be heard. I bit him. "Don't worry, folks!" T.S./Niar 295 shouted. "I'm just taking this notorious shoplifter to the proper authorities!" Proper authorities, my butt. T.S./Niar 295's shouts seemed to have convinced the crowd. Crap. T.S./Niar 295 then pulled out a pair of handcuffs (which, so you know, normal mall cops don't have immediate access to) and cuffed me. I was flailing and kicking but no one clued into the fact that this wasn't a normal thing. They must have all just thought I was a typical teenage delinquent, beyond help.  
T.S./Niar 295 dragged me outside of the mall to a white van. I recognized it in an instant. That van belonged to The Sharing! T.S./Niar 295 shoved me into the back seat of the van. Then he/it shut the door and locked it.  
I had no way out. T.S./Niar 295 took off one of his/its shoes and shoved his/its dirty sock in my mouth. T.S./Niar 295 then searched through the glove compartment for something. He/It then pulled out some black duck tape. Without any hesitation, he/it taped me up to the seat, first by my arms and then my legs. Not quite comfortable.  
On the flipside, though, at least T.S./Niar 295 wasn't looking to do anything more than that. Not that most Yeerks are going to be into that kind of thing. They just don't have the time, thank god.  
"Lucky me I found you, human." T.S./Niar 295 said. "Many of my brothers were searching for you. But _I_ will bring you to the Visser! Just think of it, I could finally raise a few ranks!" The Controller sounded so happy.  
I had found out that Yeerks were named based on their rank and job through the memories I acquired. It was a functional way of keeping order, I guess, but what about the Yeerk's individuality? Or did they care about those kinds of things? Did a parasite have a sense of their own, separate self? I tried to answer the Yeerk back but it came out as a series of muffled sounds. It didn't care. Instead, we kept on going to wherever T.S./Niar 295 was driving us to. The Sharing building, I suspected. I had never been there. Something about The Sharing had always given me the willies and looking back on it, I didn't like what it had done to my parents. I didn't like the way it had made them abandon me. Why in the world would I join that place? If only I'd known the truth...  
_You do know the truth now, Mel._ The voice in my head reminded me. _Now look at you._  
The little voice had a point. Now I knew and here I was taped up to a car seat, hostage to a mall cop who was slave to a parasitic slug. Someone tell me how that's any better than being a girl whose only friend was her dead cat?  
Well, I knew the reason my life had gone to pot. But was that knowledge worth it? 

The van screeched to a halt. T.S./Niar 295 grabbed a pair of scissors out of the van's glove compartment and then went to go get me. Still holding the scissors he opened up my door and then I was cut loose.  
Yes, I was still cuffed and gagged. You didn't think the Yeerks would make it easy, did you?  
"Here she is, Visser." T.S./Niar 295 said. Then I saw him. He was in the form of Mr. Trent at the time. When I had gotten Iniss 226's memories I had learned about _him_. Visser Three. The one who was in control of the Yeerk invasion of Earth. He has the form of an Anda-whatever-they-are, which means he can change into the form of whatever animal he desires. That makes dangerous. In reality, miles beyond dangerous.  
"Good Work, Niar 295. I will reward you handsomely for this." Visser Three said. The voice made me shake. Jesus, how could any one human voice be made to sound so terrifying? "Let's get her into the shack."  
_What shack?_ I wondered as I looked around me. For the first time I realized T.S./Niar 295 had driven me out to a small breakdown shack in the woods. Great. T.S./Niar 295 took me and carried me into the shack behind Visser Three. I felt sick to my stomach. I felt afraid and disgusted with myself. They were going to infest me, I knew it! Dad was going to be so disappointed. Why did I have to be such a freak? I could have stayed free! Dad's sacrifice, the loss of his freedom, was going to mean nothing. Nothing at all! Only because I saw the truth, and I didn't even know why! What was wrong with me?  
The shack was as unappealing as it looked from the outside. There was no floor, just a thin covering of dirt.  
No furniture, either. Nothing in there except a pool of what looked like dark water. If you looked at it for more than a few seconds, you figured out that _wasn't_ water. Of course, most people don't have the time to look.  
Because that "dark water" was Yeerk Pool liquid. Yeerks have to feed on these things called Kandrona Rays every three days. Where the Yeerks get their healthy dose of Kandrona is the Yeerk Pool. It's also where they get to swim in and out of their host's ear canal and get back into the host's mind. Amazing what the memories of two Yeerks can teach you. With a hard, painful thud I hit the dirt. T.S./Niar 295 had thrown me down.  
I was inches away from the Pool! "If I'd known you were so talented, I'd have had you infested sooner. Your talents are far more valuable than one well-positioned human-Controller! Why think Niar 295! With one of my best men in the head of this girl, we'll be able to finally capture those cursed Andalite bandits!" The Visser was gloating. It made me sick.  
T.S./Niar 295 had taken the liberty of sitting on my legs to make certain I didn't get free. He/It then lifted my head up and closer to the Pool. Right to the very edge. I felt a hot tear crawl down my cheek. Nothing. Dad's sacrifice had meant nothing at all and I was to blame. I remembered a letter right then. I'd gotten it close to a year ago in my locker. I still had no idea who had sent it, but whoever they were, they knew. They had told me my father loved me more than he could show. It was so true. My parents hadn't abandoned me, the Yeerks inside had. They loved me.  
And now I was wasting their sacrifice. 

A loud roar echoed through the shack. T.S./Niar 295 dropped my head in shock and the Visser almost jumped.  
Then with a loud slam a lion fell through the ceiling of the shack. Pardon my French, but how the hell had a lion gotten here?  
"Andalite!" Visser Three hissed. So one of the Andalite Bandits had come to save me? Why?  
Get on, damn it! The lion said to me as it ran to me. No, I kid you not. The lion talked to me. Needless to say, I got onto his back and hung onto his mane for dear life. We sped through the woods like there was no tomorrow.  
After a few minutes of running it looked like we were near the city. "I think we lost them." I said.  
Yeah fucking right. the lion replied. Visser Three will catch up to us sooner or later.  
I have no problem with people who swear, but this guy (I was assuming, it _sounded_ like a guy) was starting to piss me off with his attitude. "Look, I'm way beyond grateful, but who are you?" I shouted at him. The lion put a paw to his face, telling me to shush. Not a very lion-like action. Don't scream. The lion told me. Before I could ask why, the lion's fur started to melt away. I didn't scream. I bit the hell out of tongue, but I didn't scream.  
I won't go into detail because you really don't want to know, but in about two minutes the lion had changed into a boy. A blonde boy with brown eyes wearing a Grateful Dead shirt and orange swim trunks. Horrid taste in clothes, but he was kind of cute. Not that I was noticing that very much at the time. I was more preoccupied with how in the heck had he been the lion that got me out of the shack? The boy smirked at me. He must've found my confusion funny.

"I'm David Sargent." He said. 

* * *

If you like this, you'll review. If you hate this, you'll review. Right? Please? I'll do a dance for you! 


	2. Chapter Two Pawn

Author's Note: Something anyone who wants to keep up with this (or any) of my series should know: I'm a lazy bum. I apologize, but I hate to rush fics because it always ends badly. At the moment I have a vague idea of where the plot is going but it takes me a while to write that out. Hence the long wait between chapters. Once again, I apologize and I give you all permission to bug me about it as much as possible. It helps, I swear!  
Oh yeah, one last thing. I upped the rating. Not only because David has the mouth of a sailor, but also because of other things I won't reveal for a long time coming. Okay, I'm done now. Read.

Awakening  
_Two - Pawn_

* * *

I'm David Lee Sargent. Just for you information, the Yeerks are out there and the Animorphs are a bunch of assholes. I learned both of those lessons the hard way, so just trust me, all right?  
As anyone who's been through the hells of junior high and high school can tell you, there are two types of new kids. There are the new kids who are accepted into the fold and embraced without a look back. Whatever causes it, be it designer clothes, rich parents, good looks or an amusing stutter, they are loved without a doubt. Good for them.  
Then there's the other type. The kids who everyone just gangs up against. Most of the time they don't have a reason, except that something about you ticks them off. Now if you'd started your first day by beating the shit out of your teachers, it'd be understandable why some of the students kept their distance. Hell, even I can get that.  
Most of the time it's something much less serious. Either you're poor, ugly, or have an annoying whine for a voice. Also, you're smarter than they are. If I've learned anything from the multitudes of schools I've been through, it's that people _hate_ someone smarter than them. If you ask me, that's why those assholes blew me off from day one. Add that to the fact that I just didn't fit into their little crowd. I happen to think that's kind of funny when you consider that those idiots accepted a talking bird and an annoying-as-hell alien into their fold sans argument.  
But I never have fit in anywhere. I accepted that fact ages ago.

Which is fine with me, honest to god. I can't even fake giving a shit about them. The one thing I regret is that those upstart pricks are the ones who are supposed to liberate Earth from the growing Yeerk control. Let me tell you, it isn't working in the slightest. They must be immortal or something else irritating because no normal being, be it Yeerk, Human, or Andalite, should have lived this long fighting Visser Three. They don't deserve to live in the first place. It's the truth, you know. I figure that part of why they've lasted so long is that despite how much they try to deny it, they are just the same as the Yeerks. Just as ruthless, just as sick and twisted.  
How do I know this? Because I'm a rat. Look at what they've condemned me to! The rest of my life I have to live like this. There is no fucking way out. I get to spend every waking moment of my life gorging on animals because there is no other way to survive. Even though every time I do it my human mind screams out in protest, there isn't a choice. It's just like how I had no choice before they trapped me. Those moralizing fakes had abandoned me.  
It was David vs. The World. If they didn't want me then I would have to go about things my own way. If that meant selling my only possible allies (as in a friend of mine enemy is my friend kind of way), then I could sell them to the Visser (also in a friend of mine enemy is my friend kind of way). All I wanted was my family back again.  
My family had been the only people who were constant in my life. I didn't have the luxury of any childhood friend since I was moving all the time. It wasn't like I had that many friends in the first place. To be honest, I stopped trying. There wasn't a point in attempting to make friends if all that was going to happen was that I'd have to move away next month. My parents had always been a part of my life despite that. Which is really kind of sad because I didn't even like _them_ that much. You can't pick and choose your family, though. If I could have done that I would've picked someone other than an alcoholic workaholic once-was general who still harbored delusions of grandeur and his happy little housewife who had bright red scars down her arms. Still, can't choose your family.  
And God did I ever want them back. But _they_ couldn't even grant me that. Oh, hell no. It's a rule of the world: nothing nice must ever come to David. I guess they figured they were clever and maybe they were. They got rid of me for a time, but I won't forgive them. Even if they decided to throw down the olive branch and somehow give me back my family and my body, I will not forgive them. I will not forgive _her_.

I will make her mine. I will make her my slave, my plaything. Then I will crush her. Just you watch.

She was the first person in a very long time that I had any sense of kinship with. I sensed it in her as much as it was inside of me. She was better at keeping up appearances than I was but there wasn't a way to hide it.  
Something had gone deliciously askew with her. She'd become an addict to her horrible fate and I loved that.  
I'd told her before that she put up walls to hide the truth. I hope she still does.  
It will make her surrender even more satisfying in the end. It'll make twisting the knife in her heart even better.  
Just like she'd done with me. I'd thought that perhaps she would see the light, see that we were the same.  
I had no such luck. After all, it's like I said: nothing good ever comes to me. I happen to blame it on that bird.  
I will never, for the life of me, understand her love for him. He was what kept her from falling into the pit. From falling too deep into her own dark soul, and Jesus, did I ever want her to fall. That's why I killed him. That is why I killed Tobias. I'd known that in losing him she would lose her grip. God, it was wonderful listening to her scream. Listening to her screaming over and over that she would kill me and knowing all the time that I'd opened up the darkness in her heart. The memory still makes me smile.  
But she betrayed me. My Rachel betrayed me, that bitch. Looking back I suppose I should have expected it, but I had been so sure that she would see I was the only one for her. Now look what my hard work had gotten me.  
All for the sake of love, too. For the sake of my parents' love, for the sake of Rachel's love, I was a rat.

It no longer matters. No longer, for Crayak has shown me infinite love.

* * *

It is to Lord Crayak that I now swear complete allegiance. Not to my parents, not to Rachel, and without a doubt not to the rest of the Animorphs. In a way I almost pity them for being pawns of the Ellimist. Pawns to that being which cares nothing for them aside from the amusement they provide him. But they deserve it, upstart fucks.  
I am so lucky that Lord Crayak found me. It was a few months after I had become a _nothlit_. He'd found me on the beach as I had been eating. It was still an experience I have never, and will never, be accustomed to. It's an experience you can never really quite accept. It was right about the time that my human brain threatened to upchuck my meal that I had seen him.  
It was disorienting, believe me. One moment I had been on the beach and screaming at myself, the next I found myself face-to-face with a being that was...I can only call Crayak a sentient machine. It's the only description that fits. He was horrifying to look at then and he still is now. His blood red eye stared at me, and even though I am _not_ the type to keel over to anyone, I felt my knees lock and my legs collapse underneath me.  
Yes, my _human_ knees and legs.

I lifted my head and stared at the Big Red Eye in shock. There was no doubt that this monstrosity was the one who had restored me. Then I wondered what the Big Eye's purpose was. Call me paranoid as hell, but I knew there had to be an ulterior motive. Everyone has them, you know.  
It was a second later that my eyes caught the Drode. He looks sort of like a Barney made of prunes. A really messed up Barney made of prunes. He, too, is a servant of Lord Crayak. For the record though, that doesn't mean I consider him an ally. He's too damn annoying for me to do that. Something in my fate has decided I should be stuck with annoying smart guys at every period of my life. The first one was this dork named Robert, a whiny lanky dude that I hung out with and beat up the majority of fifty grade. He kept contact with me until we were freshman. When ninth rolled around, his mother decided I was a bad influence and forbid Robert to ever write me anything again. As far as I know I haven't received anything from my old punching bag since. The other annoying smart guy was, as you can guess, was that asshole Marco. I didn't like him from the start. There was the obvious fact that he was just plain annoying, but I hated that out of all of them, he could see right through me. I _hate_ people that can do that.  
Maybe because I'm one of those people, now that I think about it, but back to the more important matter of Lord Crayak. Lord Crayak more or less uses Drode to speak for him. For the life of me I can't figure out why he doesn't use someone with a more pleasant voice, but that's a different matter. Just like always, Drode also spoke to me for Lord Crayak. What, did you expect Crayak to do it himself? He has no mouth and he doesn't use thoughtspeak!  
"Oh, look, Master." The Drode teased in his whiny voice. "The Rouge Animorph has dropped in on us."  
"What the hell are you babbling about?" I asked Drode. It didn't sound, as tough as I wished it did, I still wasn't used to using my mouth again. The Drode laughed at me which only served to piss me off more.  
"I'm talking about you, Mister Sargent. You're the Rouge Animorph, the Outcast of the group." The Drode said.  
"I'm not one of those fucks." I told the Drode, giving him my most menacing glare for good measure.  
"If you say so." The Drode shrugged and I just _knew_ he was laughing at me. I _hate_ being laughed at.  
"Either way," The Drode said as his whine tried to take on a persuasive tone. "My Lord Crayak has a job for you."  
"Your Lord Crayak?" I said, paraphrasing the Drode. "I didn't know aliens got involved in that S&M shit."  
"Shut up, human. Lord Crayak and I can both kill you." The Drode deadpanned. I couldn't help it, I grinned.  
"How? By strapping me to a torture table and fucking me without mercy?" I asked. The Drode glared at me.  
"Human, go work out your homoerotic fantasies somewhere else before Lord Crayak tires of you." The Drode said.  
"Are you implying I'm a faggot?" I shouted at the Drode. He gave me no answer. Which was just great, having Prune Barney think I like it up the ass. Not that I have anything against gays, they just freak me out.  
"If you'd have the courtesy to listen to me, you'd know that Lord Crayak has the kindness to give you your hearts' desires." The Drode told me. I swear to God he was smirking at me. Stupid prune but I took his bait.  
"My heart's desires?" I asked the Drode. He nodded at me. "Yes. Your body, your parents, your Rachel."  
"Lord Crayak can give it all to you."   
I didn't even think about it. "Then tell Lord Crayak that I'm his."

* * *

I experienced another disorienting moment. I found myself back in my old house, the one I had before those fucking Animorphs decided to mess up my life. I was standing in my room all alone and dressed in that stupid as shit "morphing outfit" Tobias had stolen for me. I still can't believe those idiots don't realize the riches they can get.  
The Drode popped up behind me a second later. My parents were with him.  
If I was one of those touchy-feely bastards I would've started crying right then, and I will admit that my throat closed up for a moment. But only a moment, so don't think anything of it. God, how long had it been since I saw them?  
It hadn't even been a week before the saints-of-the-world...oh, excuse me, the _Animorphs_, had decided I wasn't good enough for them. I took a wild guess and assumed it was close to three months that I had been trapped in rat morph. I confess that I'd lost track of the days, which was really a good thing. Why the hell would I want to know how long I had been a goddamned rat anyway? Being a rat was much more important than how long I had been one. Forgetting the days was just one small way I attempted to keep sane. Though I've heard from more than a few sources that I'm a complete fuck-up. But, hey, I believe that sanity is what you make of it.  
So says the boy who watched his mother cut up her arms at seven years old but you can't pick and choose your memories. Who gives a shit about the past, anyway?  
"They aren't conscious yet." The Drode told me. "Wouldn't want your poor mother to experience another trip to the mental hospital for seeing an alien, now would we?" He asked. It took every bit of my will to not beat the shit out of him.  
"You're an asshole." I told the Drode. Just because I wasn't going to beat him to a pulp didn't mean I couldn't speak my mind.  
"And you're a messed up sociopath. We're even." He teased. "Now, the pleasantries aside, you're going to need to learn what your job is, David."  
"My job?" I queried, forgetting that I sounded stupid as crap repeating the Drode all the time.  
"Do you really think Crayak would have given you these gifts for no reason? You have a job to do." Drode told me.  
"All right." I said. "So what is it that your Master wants from me?" I asked the Drode.  
The Drode smiled. "To steal him a gift. If you retrieve it for us, Lord Crayak will follow through his last promise. You already have your parents and your body. For your Rachel, you will have to do this small task."  
I licked my lips as images of Rachel bending to my will flashed through my mind. "What small task, hm?"  
The Drode smirked. He must've guessed I would agree. Annoying ass of a prune. "Get us a girl." He said.  
It took a moment for that to sink in. "You're not serious." I said. "Crayak's all-powerful, right? Why can't he get himself a date?"  
"That's _not_ why he needs the girl." The Drode hissed. "This girl is a freak of nature, an accident. She happens to be an accident that would serve Lord Crayak's needs very well. He _needs_ her, David."  
I nodded and let that sink in for a moment. All I had to do was get a girl, and then I would have Rachel. Then I could give her the exact treatment she deserved. She would become my slave. She could watch as I killed that bird of hers, as I plucked every feather off his body and beat him to a pulp. She could watch, as I would force him to morph out of his body and beat him over and over. Then I could hear her screams again. I could once again open up that wound, the darkness inside of that beautiful body. The thought was making me almost salivate.  
"Who's the girl?" I asked Drode. "And when should I go grab her?"  
"The girl is called Melissa Chapman, and you should pick her up at around six o'clock tomorrow. She'll be in a shack in the woods, according to Lord Crayak." The Drode told me. Then he teleported away.  
"Enjoy your family, David."

* * *

I did. For the first time in more than I could remember, even before I could morph, even before all of that, I enjoyed my family. Mom and Dad were both pretty confused by the fact that I hugged them. Yes, me. I hugged someone. I didn't like it but I still did it. Mom had hugged me back. She placed her dirty arms around me. I jerked away at first but I let her hug me. She hadn't noticed my hesitation. It was just that even though I couldn't see it underneath her long shirts, I still thought of those cuts on her arms every time she tried to hug me or hand me something.  
Not that I'd ever talked to her about it. I wasn't sure I ever intended to. Dad had scoffed at me but he did pat me on the back. It was an improvement; I hadn't expected any affection from him. Maybe Crayak had made them nice people, too? Was that kind of thing possible?  
I had asked them if they knew anyone called Mr. Visser. I asked if they'd heard about the guys running around town dressed up as weird centaurs and mutated versions of Jar-Jar Binks. They looked at me like I was nuts.  
So they were no longer Controllers, I'd made certain. I suppose that if I wanted one-hundred-percent proof, I would have morphed in front of them but there were three reasons I didn't. One was that I didn't yet know if I could still morph. The second was that I didn't want to run the risk of them getting infested and telling the Yeerks about me. The third was that, if I could morph, I wanted to keep that all to myself. Without any moralizing bastards to mess things up for me. If I could pick and choose the way I was going to handle my powers this time around, no one was going to know. Not a soul. Expect perhaps that Melissa Chapman chick if need be. If she was going to end up working for Lord Crayak then she would more than likely learn anyway. Just what I needed, some annoying bitch working with me. It was all for Rachel's sake, though. All for the sake of My Rachel, so I could handle that.  
I left my poor confused parents at about seven-thirty. We'd finished dinner and so I headed up to my room. I told them that I was going to do my homework or some crap like that. I can't believe they fell for it considering that I turn up C's in most of my classes because I blew off the homework thing ages ago. I haven't done it since fifth grade, I think.  
I went upstairs to my room. It took me a moment to remember to move as soon as I'd gotten in. Everything was like I'd left it the morning of that day. It was nice and neat, more or less. It wasn't torn to shreds; there wasn't a gaping hole in the wall. There was no blue box. But I didn't have time to be sentimental; I was still lacking the last thing I wanted in my plans. I still did not have my Rachel. So I reviewed all the morphs I had acquired.  
In the end I picked golden eagle. I had loved it. I relished the power that little killing machine had and I still loved to envision what it had been like to fly. So I concentrated with all my mind on becoming a golden eagle.  
I almost bit my tongue off to keep from screaming as large talons erupted from my feet. My skin started to itch like mad as feathers sprouted from my body. My tongue was relieved from the pain of being close to chewed off when I grew myself a beautiful beak. Which was good because I either would have screamed or bitten my fucking tongue off in the next moment as it felt like I'd just fallen off of a three-story building. What had really happened was that I had shrunken to the size of a bird. A strange half-David, half-golden eagle, but still the size of a bird.  
In a moment or two the changes were gone and done with. I was full and total golden eagle, and in complete control of myself by the way. I also had a few things I needed to do.

The next morning there was a report of a diamond-studded Rolex and a mix of diamond, garnet, ruby, sapphire and emerald earrings and necklaces missing from the jewelry store. The earrings and necklaces are in the back of my closet hidden behind my shoes. I move them about every other day. The Rolex is in my backpack.

* * *

It was my luck that Dad had taught me all about programming watches, otherwise I wouldn't have known how to set off the damn thing. I had set the alarm to go off at five twenty-five so I'd have plenty of time to go find the damn shack the Drode had told me about. I'd been careful in selecting my watch as well. I had scoped out the jewelry shop a few times in bird morph, once as some drugged-up hippie I had acquired near the mall, and then I ended up stealing all the goods in the form of the human-Controller I had acquired at the convention. Lucky for him that the jewelry store, until that point, had no security cameras. I could have done it in rat morph but that was so much easier. I had also resolved to _never_ morph rat again if I could help it. The watch was well worth the pretty penny it would've cost me. Waterproof, glow-in-the-dark light, switched to military time and had both calendar and stopwatch features, and damn did it look good. I fed my parents some bullshit about going to a party after school. I also have proof now that Lord Crayak did some toying around with my parents because under normal circumstances, they would never have believed that. Luck was on my side though, and they trusted me.  
So right after school I dropped my backpack in my locker and ran into the boys' bathroom to morph to golden eagle.

I hope Chapman didn't mind my crashing through the window but I'm sure as hell not paying for it.

God, I know it's corny as crap, but I love to fly. There's such a rush over it, I feel so damn elated when I do it.  
The bugger was that I didn't get to enjoy that elation because I had to find some annoying little girl in the woods.  
Yes, you idiots, I was pissed at that. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't give a shit what happened to this girl, whatever the hell Crayak and the Drode needed her for, but I had been pulled into this. It wasn't fair, I thought.  
It wasn't fair that I had been turned into a rat. I would be the first person to admit that. It wasn't fair that I had been forced to endure months of torture and isolation beyond any kind I'd experienced before. It wasn't fair that I had been dragged into something that really had _nothing_ to do with me all because I was offered my deepest longings. But I had to be a man.  
That's what my asshole , oh excuse me, _father_ had drilled into me. I could almost hear his words now. They echoed inside of my head like they would inside a deep and fatal cave, a memory I had no want to replay.  
"Raise your head up, boy! Don't you hang your head at me! Damn it David, wipe away those tears!"  
It had been when I was five or six after my old cat (pre-Megadeth days) had died. The old man had found me in my room crying over it. He'd picked me up by my collar and shouted those exact words at me. Syllable for syllable.  
Lesson learned, though. Only wimpy pansy faggot boys cry, and though I hate to break it to the butt-fuckers of the word, I ain't one of those.  
"Don't you cry!" My father's words repeated themselves almost as audible in my mind as in real life.  
Then the sharp pitch of squealing tires drowned it out. My eagle eyes spotted it quicker than you can say "Mississippi". A dorky white van with the words "The Sharing" across it in deep black. Making sure my suspicions weren't just guesses, I looked around me as well and guess what I spied with my birdie eye? Yes indeed, a torn up little shack not but a yard away. I had found my little girl. I had found the trinket that would lead me to my Rachel.  
I swooped under the cover of some trees that would be out of sight and I demorphed. I had to be ready, just in case.  
With the stealth of a cat I maneuvered my way towards the itsy-bitsy-about-to-crumble shack.  
I saw a big guy in what looked like his early twenties open the right-side door. He cut something with some scissors in his hand, and out came a girl blonde, pissed, and cuffed. I already liked her.  
Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have to work with a ditz for the sake of Lord Crayak. That'd be a fucking relief.  
There was another man with the burly guy and the ticked blonde. He looked to be mid-forties or so and there was something about him that even alarmed me. Something was not right with this man or whatever he was. Having been around other-worlders for a bit, I had a strong feeling this guy was not human. I also got a feeling that I knew him.  
"Good Work, Niar 295. I will reward you handsomely for this." The creepy old guy said. It was then that I knew.  
"Let's get her to the shack." I heard him say, but those words meant nothing to me as I began to recollect another time he had spoken to me in person, per se. The fucking asshole, he had tempted me. Tempted me with the thought of getting my parents back. It was because of him that I had lost all respect those shits had begun to grow for me, if they respected me at all. I should have gone back to him but how was I to know that I would be betrayed? That every single last one of them would stab me in the back? I had no idea.  
Distracted by my inner musings I almost didn't notice the twenty-something and Visser Three leading the girl into the shack. _To do what?_ I wondered. _Infest her, you dumbass._ My mind reminded me.  
I'd started the changes before I was even all that conscious of them. Not to be all touchy-feely here, but even I can't just sit down and accept what the Yeerks do to people. And if someone as fucked up as me thinks it's wrong, that's telling you something. And I was _not_ planning on letting them infest my key to Rachel. There was just no way.

I heard some sounds coming from the shack as I morphed, but considering my whole body was changing shape, there was no way I could understand them. Human language just doesn't translate to a lion, somehow. Might be part of why they'd like to tear us up if given half the chance. I was waiting with utter patience for the last, and most important, part of the change to begin. The change from a human's annoying squeaks to a lion's tone.  
I roared. The sound of it could liquefy the legs of a grown man. Hell, maybe even a giant. That was just what I wanted it to do. On instinct I leaped onto the top of the ramshackle shack. In the next moment it crumbled under me, leaving me standing in a room in the middle of a shocked Visser, a crying girl, and the twenty-something that had just pissed himself. Go me.  
*Get on, damn it!* I shouted to the blonde as I ran up to her. She proved she had a few working cells in her brain by leaping onto my back. We ran through the forest like shit. I have no idea how I managed to keep the chick on my back but it might have had something to do with the way she was digging what she could of her fingernails into my mane. For the record, it hurt like hell. I ran fast as I could in what I assumed was the direction of the school.  
The chick and I stopped for a moment. I needed to think out what I was going to do next.  
"I think we lost them." The girl said. What a fucking idiot.  
*Yeah fucking right. Visser Three will catch up to us sooner or later.* I told her. She didn't say anything after that, not even ask me who Visser Three was. Which was a little weird, but I figured that maybe that megalomaniac had told her inside the shack. That seemed like his style.  
"Look, I'm way beyond grateful, but who are you?" The chick asked me. I'd pissed her off, which made me pleased as punch. But one mustn't forget good manners. It was only fair I told her who I was.   
*Don't scream.* I told her as I placed a paw to my many-fanged mouth. Then I started to demorph back into boy.  
To her credit the girl didn't scream. She was freaked out as hell, but no screaming. That was a bonus.  
I smirked as the elation of getting My Rachel occurred to me. "I'm David Sargent." I told the girl.  
She nodded a very brisk nod. It was so sharp it looked like her blonde little head was going to fall off her shoulders.  
I wanted her to tell me her name back (it _was_ only polite), but I didn't have the time to waste with formalities. 

I needed to get back to my house. Even though, since I couldn't carry the girl around as a lion all day, that meant the long way. By foot. "We're going to my place." I told her. She followed behind me and it was a minute or two that I heard her ask me something.  
"Are those all the clothes you have?" She asked. I'm not like a faggot about what I wear, but I didn't like the comment on my style. I had to set this poor girl straight.  
"No. Most of my clothes are in my locker." I told her, then I laughed. "I could hide anything from Chapman's nose, that cokehead. I could have needles and joints stuffing my locker and that motherfucker wouldn't even notice."  
The girl stayed silent. It was half-a-second later that I felt her hand slam against my frail cheek. I made a move to grab her wrist and show her _her place_ but I stopped myself just in time. I doubted Lord Crayak wanted the girl to get sour on me.  
"Don't you _dare_ talk about my father that way!" She screeched. I couldn't help it, I smirked.  
"Oh, what? Can Miss Little Princess not take someone badmouthing her sweet daddy?" I asked. The girl flipped me the bird.  
I shook my head in mock disgust. "Obscene finger gestures from such a pristine girl?" I murmured.  
The girl scowled at me and I got the privilege of peeking at her pearly whites. "I'm not that pristine." She said.  
I doubted it but I didn't say that to her. "Whatever you say." I told her with a shrug. "I apologize."  
The girl raised an eyebrow but I could tell by the look in her eyes that she had fallen for it. Wonderful.  
We walked along in silence for a while longer until about a block from my place, she spoke again.  
"I'm Melissa Chapman, David." She said.  
"Nice to meet you, Melissa." I smarmed. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Even though I would have to teach that girl her place, it might not be so bad. At least I was going to get my Rachel again.

* * *

****

Oh, reviewers! Glorious reviewers! Flamers, and fans, and the strange ones...

a person who likes your work - I'm glad you like the story! And guess what? You're gonna get your wish, I'm writing more!

****

Prometheus - Wow. A double review. Anyway, I'm glad you like the story and I will be moving on towards the plot and subplots soon, I just need to introduce a few characters first. I really hope you enjoy the rest of the story. And to be frank, I must admit that just writing David was disturbing, just a bit. He's not my favorite character either. Fortunately, the next chapter is a Melissa one. 

****

Doctor Strangelove - Woohoo! I rendered someone speechless and incoherent! This is the first time I've ever done that! And I'm continuing the story, don't panic! There shalt be more!

* * *

Now I beg and plead of you, review! Please? I'll give you a free kitten!


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